The End
by TotalFanGirl221B
Summary: Right, well I'm improving my version of my version of Alone on the Water :)
1. Chapter 1

Sherlock started panting. He tossed and turned and started to squeeze his eyes tighter and tighter to try and get rid of the pain, but he couldn't. Suddenly, he opened his eyes and sat up quickly, still panting. He took deep breaths in and out. He quickly jumped out of his bed and ran into the kitchen. He rummaged quickly through the cupboards looking for some pills to relieve him from the pain. He threw several small boxes out of them as he searched everywhere, but there were none to be found. He shouted angrily began to breathe heavily because of the pain he was in. Everything was useless; he hadn't slept for a few days because of this, and he just kept feeling worse and worse. Obviously nobody had noticed any change in Sherlock as he tried to keep it all under control, but now it had gotten out of hand. Luckily, however, the pain was at its worst at night. Yes, it was still awful in the day, but it was incredibly unbearable at night. So, he would do his best to ignore it in the daytime and, get on with his work without anybody knowing there was something wrong.

John came down to see Sherlock lying on the cold kitchen floor. He rushed over to him to see if he was all right. He shook him slightly and Sherlock slowly opened his eyes. "Sherlock?" Sherlock blinked continuously and looked startled. "Sherlock, are you all right?" Sherlock nodded slowly. He wasn't quite sure what was going on or where he was.

"Where am I?"

"You're on the kitchen floor, for some reason." John said as he helped Sherlock up. He wrapped Sherlock's arm around his neck and walked him over to the sofa in the living room.

John lay Sherlock on the sofa and went to get his medical bag from his bedroom. He came down and Sherlock hadn't moved an inch because he was too weak and the pain he was in was unbearable. John kneeled beside him and took his blood pressure. "What's been going on? Have you been sleeping?" Sherlock shook his head weakly. "Where's the pain?" Sherlock didn't bother to deny he was in pain.

"My... my head... Everywhere..." He moaned. He slowly closed his eyes as John checked him over.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, wake up." Sherlock slowly opened his eyes to see his friend stood over him and somebody else. He couldn't make out the face straight away, but he recognised the voice. "Can you hear me?" Sherlock nodded slowly, still wondering who else was stood above him.

"Sherlock?" The face began to get clearer. "John, you were right." Lestrade said to John. Sherlock slowly sat up.

"What happened? What's he right about? What are you all talking about?" Sherlock asked sleepily. John turned back to Sherlock.

"You passed out again. Lestrade called to see if you'd help on a case, I told him you were ill and he came to see if you were."

"I didn't actually believe it." Lestrade laughed. "In the five years I've known you, you've never had so much as a cold." He smiled. Sherlock shook his head. He began to get a headache once more and it was awful. It was a sharp pain just running through his head. He felt something coming up his throat and it was horrible. Lestrade and John continued to speak to each other which was making his head worse. He closed his eyes and then put his hand to the side to stop them from speaking.

"Can you just... just stop?" he said, trying to pull himself together. However, whatever was coming up his throat was coming up faster. He had to get to the bathroom. John could see something was wrong and tried to comfort him.

"Sherlock," Sherlock shut him up and tried to stand up. Lestrade and John watched as he staggered slowly towards the bathroom. Neither of them made an attempt to follow him until he fell to the floor. They both quickly rushed to his side and helped to lift him up. However, he pushed them off him. He placed his hands by his side as he knew he wouldn't make it to the bathroom in time. He could no longer keep it in. He coughed and coughed. John placed his hand on Sherlock's bag and told Lestrade to bring some water. "Sherlock?" Sherlock began to cough more and more, and soon, he began to cough up blood. He didn't throw up incredibly amounts, but there was quite a bit.

Once John was sure he had finished throwing up, he helped Sherlock up. Lestrade had brought in the water and a cloth. John lay Sherlock back down onto the sofa and took his temperature. He was incredibly flushed and dazed. He kept his eyes only half open and didn't speak a word. He sipped his water slowly and only a few times. John had to wipe Sherlock's face with the cloth and then replaced it with a new one to put on his forehead.

"We need to get him to a doctor," John said as he tried to clean up the blood on the floor.

"I thought you were a doctor?"

"Yeah, but we need to get him to a proper surgery as an emergency. I can't help him the way they can. They can tell us what to do and whether he needs to go to hospital or not, which is incredibly likely." Lestrade glanced over at Sherlock. He'd never seen him in that way before. It felt kind of strange because Sherlock was the type of man to never get ill. However, something was seriously wrong.

"I can take you both down to the doctors', if you want?" John looked up at him.

"What about the case?"

"I'm sure I can get someone else to do it." Lestrade felt he owed it to Sherlock for solving most of his cases.

"Thanks." John nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

They had managed to carry Sherlock down to the car and take him to the doctors'. They were told to wait in the waiting room and that it would only take a few minutes. John and Lestrade went to get a drink from the coffee shop that wasn't far from the waiting area so they still had Sherlock in sight. "Do you want me to stay?" Lestrade asked. John could see he was eager to get back to work but he felt that he was obliged to stay.

"I'm sure we'll be fine." He turned to Sherlock who he'd sat down over in the waiting area. His head was dangling down like he was asleep, his legs and arms were crossed, and he looked nothing like himself. Plus, he had to be brought in wearing some old clothes that he'd worn to bed the night before as they couldn't get him changed. Then, John turned back to Lestrade.

"Are you sure? I can stay as long as you need me to; I have someone covering me right now so it's fine."

"Honestly, I don't mind whether you stay or go. I doubt Sherlock will even notice anyway." Lestrade didn't want to leave them as he felt rude, but he didn't want to spend a long time waiting with them.

"Sure?"

"Yes." John smiled. Lestrade thanked him and then went to say goodbye to Sherlock. However, Sherlock was half asleep and didn't even notice him going, like John had said. John waved to him as he left and then went to sit beside Sherlock.

Sherlock lifted his head up slowly and groaned in agony. John turned to him after hearing it because Sherlock hadn't made a sound since they'd been there. "Sherlock?" Sherlock hadn't opened his eyes, but his head was up and he was slightly awake.

"Where... where am I, John? What's going on?"

"We're in the surgery."

"Why?" Sherlock sounded sleepy and his words were very faint; like a whisper.

"You began to throw up blood, so Lestrade brought us here. We're going to see if you need to go to hospital or not." Sherlock didn't say anything else, so John wasn't sure if he'd fallen back to sleep or whether he just didn't have the energy or not.

Eventually the doctor called them in. "Sorry about the wait, we're very busy today." John smiled and shook the doctor's hand as he carried Sherlock into the room. He'd managed to sort of wake Sherlock up so he could speak to the doctor. The doctor showed them both to some seats and they all sat down. "What seems to be the problem?" John turned to Sherlock, but he could hardly speak, so John had to do it for him.

"Sherlock's not been well. He's had a fever; he passed out twice today and hasn't been sleeping. He has a headache, and basically he's been aching everywhere really, and he feels nauseous. He also began to throw up blood, so that's why I brought him here."

"Ok..." the doctor seemed shocked by how much John had told him, normal patients wouldn't give it to him straight as they would wait for him to ask all of the questions. John could see the surprise in his face and smiled.

"I'm a doctor, too." The doctor smiled as he nodded.

"Of course." He smiled. "If you're a doctor, why didn't you diagnose him?"

"He's my flatmate, he's not a patient. I did checks and everything, but I thought it'd be best to bring him to a doctor's and check him over so they can probably refer him to hospital. I couldn't just take him straight to hospital because there would be an awful lot of waiting around."

"Ah, all right." The doctor smiled and came up from his seat. He managed to get Sherlock to cooperate and lie on the bed. He checked everything to see what could be wrong.

"You were right," the doctor sat back down. "You will have to take him to hospital." The doctor sighed. "They can run tests there and see what the problem is." John smiled to the doctor and shook his hand. He tried to get Sherlock to thank him, but it was no use. "I'll call them and tell them you're coming in now; you won't have to wait. Mr Holmes is priority." John didn't know what he meant by this. He should do because he's a doctor, but he's never had to say it to anybody. He has told people to go to hospital, but it wasn't incredibly dangerous if they didn't go straight away. So did this mean that this was even more serious than John had imagined? If so, why? He didn't bother to ask the doctor, he just smiled and carried Sherlock out.

Lestrade called and told them that he'd take them to the hospital. John tried to persuade him not to, but Lestrade wouldn't take no for an answer. So, Sherlock and John sat on a bench outside the doctors' and waited for him to arrive. "John?" Sherlock whispered. John turned to him. "John... my head hurts. It's killing me..." Sherlock gulped hard as he tried to swallow the pain away. His head was burning and he couldn't take it. The pain was unbearable. John didn't know what to do. He felt horrible that he couldn't help his friend even though he was a doctor.

"Don't worry, Lestrade will be here soon and we'll get to the hospital in no time." John wasn't just reassuring Sherlock, he was reassuring himself. He was still thinking about what the doctor had said. He felt like he was over thinking it and maybe it just meant that Sherlock was ill but he'd soon be back to his normal self and that he shouldn't worry. Maybe it's because they had to check it out quickly so he wouldn't be in so much pain. John couldn't be sure.

"John... please... my head." Sherlock buried his face in his hands and tried to get rid of it, but it wouldn't work. "Please..." John tried to help, but it was no use.

Finally Lestrade had arrived. He found Sherlock and John sat at the bench. Sherlock was leaning over his legs and he had a small bag in his hand. John had his hand on Sherlock's bag and was watching him carefully. Lestrade realised Sherlock had been throwing up again. "Is he all right?" he shouted as he walked over to John. John sighed and shook his head. Sherlock could hear everything that was being said, but he didn't try to join the conversation as he was too weak. "Let's get him to the car."

Sherlock had been sick once more in the car; luckily he hadn't thrown up as much blood as the first time. However, there was still some there. John and Lestrade wrapped one of Sherlock's arms around each other their necks and walked him into the hospital. They walked him over to the reception and waited for the receptionist to tell them where to go. "Sherlock Holmes. We were told he was priority." The receptionist scanned through her computer until she found his name.

"Ah, yes, Mr Holmes." Then she pointed down the corridor and gave them directions to where he had to go. Lestrade and John thanked her and then made their way to the room.

They were greeted by a male doctor and then he showed them to Sherlock's bed. A couple of nurses helped put him in and then the doctor took a look at his notes. John and Lestrade waited anxiously for him to say something. "Right, we'll take him in for a scan soon, first I'd like to run a few tests and things. Has he ever been like this before? Does he have any illnesses?" John shook his head. "Well, I'll check his records just to be sure while we're running tests and soon we'll do a scan." He smiled to John and Lestrade and then left them all. Both of them looked to each other surprised.

"And...?" John asked. Lestrade smiled.

"I guess we won't know anything until they've done the scan. Whenever that is."

"What do you think it is?" John and Lestrade were free to talk about Sherlock as he had fallen asleep and was being given morphine so he wouldn't wake up because of the pain.

"I have no idea." Lestrade could see John was worried. "It's probably nothing." John raised his eyebrows. "All right, clearly it's something, but they'll be able to help him. Don't worry about it." Lestrade smiled. John found it hard to believe that they would be able to just fix it, though.


	3. Chapter 3

The doctor came back into Sherlock's room after about an hour after the scan. Lestrade had already left as he had to get back to work, so it was only John and Sherlock there. Sherlock was now awake and sat up in his bed. He still looked awful, however. On the other hand, he was awake and not in a lot of pain thanks to the morphine.

"Sherlock," the doctor began. Then he turned to John and wondered whether he should be listening. "I have some bad news, would you like me to tell you alone?" Sherlock looked over to John. He knew that John would be angry at him when he found out what was wrong. However, he was bound to find out sooner or later, and now was the best time to tell him before he died.

"Just... tell me."

"I found that you've already been treated here before..." John began to get confused. "For a brain tumour." John didn't understand. "Before it was operable, however, it has increased in size."

"How much?"

"20%, and it cannot be treated." Sherlock's face sank. John still didn't understand what was going on.

"What are you talking about a tumour?" he jumped from his seat.

"John, calm down." Sherlock waved him back to his seat. "How long have I got?" he asked, turning back to the doctor.

"I don't know. You're a time bomb. Any day could be your last." John and Sherlock looked to each other. The doctor watched as John's face sank as sudden realisation hit his face. "As there's nothing more we can do, we're going to give you some medication for the pain and you will be discharged later today, hopefully. We can get you some support, anything you need." The doctor sighed. "I realise this must be a hard time, for the both of you," he glanced to John. "I'll leave you alone to take it all in." The doctor smiled sympathetically and left the room.

John jumped from his seat the moment the doctor left. He couldn't take the news that had just been given to him. "Wait a minute... wait..." he said as he paced the room. "He said you were treated here before for it..." Sherlock tried to pretend he was falling asleep to try and ignore John, but John knew. "So you... you knew. You knew you had a tumour and you didn't... you didn't..." John scoffed. He shook his head and laughed angrily.  
"John, I'm sorry, I-"

"No, stop. You should have told me. I could have helped you..."

"John, please."

"What?" John began to shout. "Forgive you? Forgive you for not telling me you were going to die? Why did you do it? What sort of a stupid idea was that?!" Sherlock tried to make his friend listen to him, but it was no use. "No, forget it. All of it; forget it. Forget that I helped you and supported you. That I even forgave you for not telling me you were dead for three years. Forget that I believed in you when no one else did. Forget the fact that I brought you here so I could help you." John huffed, and then began to exit the room. Sherlock called for him, but John continued to walk out without turning back.

"John... John, please..." Sherlock began to struggle breathing. His heart pounded against his chest like it was going to break free any second. The pain in his head was killing him. He screamed in agony and, eventually somebody had heard him and they helped him. However, John had already left by this point and Sherlock was afraid he'd never see him again. Alone was the one thing that always protected him, but not this time. This time he needed somebody there, to help him get through the pain, through the last days or weeks or months or years of his life.


End file.
